


Q&A Kissing

by TheWalkingDebt



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Crushes, Cute, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 11:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9895214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWalkingDebt/pseuds/TheWalkingDebt
Summary: You and Steve have developed a (somewhat strange, you suppose) game of throwing random questions at each other. Whoever can’t answer the question, doesn’t want to answer the question, or can’t think of a rebuttal question, loses. It can go for hours, annoying each and every person around you two as you sit with straight faces asking ridiculous questions.EDIT 4/19/2018 - Just fixing a few things here and there. Got annoyed rereading and finding little mistakes, ugh, lol.





	

“Have you ever wanted to kiss someone so badly, but you can’t?”

Steve looks down at you and your non sequitur question. It’s not the oddest thing that's ever come out of your mouth, but that’s all that will save you here. You two have developed a (somewhat strange, you suppose) game of throwing random questions at each other. Whoever can’t answer the question, doesn’t want to answer the question, or can’t think of a rebuttal question, loses. It can go for hours, annoying each and every person around you two as you sit with straight faces asking ridiculous questions.

This one… not so much.

You’re staring up into his big blue eyes, feigning innocence. Meanwhile your heart is racing like a jackrabbit on a racetrack. He seems to consider the question with seriousness, thankfully nothing more.

“It’s happened,” he admits. “A lot more when…” he trails off a bit, and you know he means before the serum changed him. You can imagine. “Well, let’s just say now it _shouldn’t_ be as big an issue.” He smirks a little, somewhat self-deprecatingly. It’s freaking adorable, and it takes all you have in you not to give in to that strong urge that made you ask the question in the first place.

“ _Shouldn’t_ be?” you tease. He shakes his head.

“Uh uh, my turn now,” he grins, rolling his head back to think of one, then he pauses. “What about you?”

 _Fuck_. It’s a valid question. You two agreed, after a long game and running low on questions, that it’s perfectly reasonable and fair to flip the same question back on the other. You had argued that point so you could stay in one game, and when you had lost, you remembered to bring it up next time he was losing and demanding the same thing you had.

“Um,” you stare up at him, a little red in the face. “Well… yeah.”

He nods, but he looks back to the TV playing quietly in the background. “Your turn.”

“O-okay,” you let out a small breath of relief. “Um, if you could change your body to look like anyone else’s, who would it be?”

“Yours,” he grins, a quick reply to match the darting expression of teasing playfulness.

You laugh, shaking your head, “I’m sure you wouldn’t.” It's not like yours was anything special, but you blushed inwardly at the thought of Steve being able to see all of it.  _Typical guy_ _just wants to see boobs_ , you thought to yourself, even if that wasn't a bit like Steve.

“Hey, you asked,” he shrugs a shoulder, one of his massive deltoids shifting underneath his thin t-shirt. _God is it sexy…_ He’s quiet for a moment. “If I could change back… maybe my old body.”

You look at him surprised, “Really? Why?”

He seems to have forgotten that you’re not supposed to ask follow up questions. “Just… just to see if… everything would be the same.” He glances down at you. “Would we still…?” He’s red in the face, but unwilling to finish the question.

“We’d still be friends, Steve,” you assure him quietly, reaching up to touch his cheek before realizing that might be a bit too intimate. You change last minute to pat his shoulder awkwardly. “Even if you did have chicken bone thighs that wouldn’t be comfortable to lay on.” Your smirk is wide, meant to make a laugh and distract from the worry in his eyes. He chuckles.

“Good,” he smiles, and you _absolutely_ go all gooey inside. “Who did you like as a kid?”

You blink, surprised, and slightly embarrassed. “We haven’t gotten to this one yet?” maybe you can convince him he’s already asked this before.

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “I would’ve remembered.” Cute sentiment, but devilish eyes. You are aware that his memory is probably a thousand times better than yours, and on these occasions, it’s a little irritating. ...As well as utterly embarrassing.

“Um, well…” _the thing is, it’s you. Always has been, apparently._

You remember the first time you came to Washington, D.C. It was probably around age six or seven. Mom and Dad took you down during summer vacation, thanks to parents that were overly fond of politics and history. You, as a somewhat rambunctious child, had run off from their guided tour of the Smithsonian into the Captain America exhibit. Immediately you had gone starry-eyed, and not just from the spangled armor.

His stalwart form, the pictures of his chiseled face, the description of his service… all of it had made you well up with… something warm and curious inside. You weren’t sure what it was at the time, but you had spent nearly two hours reading the exhibits in there and gushing to your mom about what he had done. You had loved that he was into art and drew pictures, because you considered yourself to be quite the artist. You nearly wept over his ailments list prior to the serum that had turned him into the super soldier you knew today; you thought about the kid with asthma in your class that was teased for not being able to complete a single lap around the gym. Your face flushed with embarrassment when you remembered you had laughed as well.

...Thinking back on it, you never really grew out of it. You had centered every paper, essay, paragraph, or short story for school on Captain America. The librarians began to renew the World War II books you borrowed without even needing you to ask. Your dad bought you a Captain America Build-a-Bear for your thirteenth birthday. You insisted you were too old for it, but he saw you snuggle it every night when you went to bed. You once went a whole year only wearing red, white, and blue. Your mom made you a cape when you were little, with a Captain America symbol sewn on the back. You refused to take it off for a whole month, even traipsing off to school in it.

All the trivia you soaked up about him as a kid helped when you were writing history papers in high school, and ‘Steve’ provided as an excellent fake name for an imaginary boyfriend/excuse when your friends insisted you date. You’re pretty sure that if they hadn’t been so obsessed with their own boyfriends, they would have noticed you were using Steve Rogers as the basis for your fake long-distance relationship.

....And you still have that stuffed bear with the helmet and shield somewhere.  

So, safe to say, you have always been a little obsessed with Cap.

And now…? You are hardly one to back down from a challenge, but admitting that your first crush, and very much _current_ crush, was on the very man you lay in the lap of? ...So fucking difficult. But it’s practically begging to jump off your tongue. You're oh so bad at lying to people, especially Steve. He had this way of looking especially disappointed that made people crumble inside.

“You don’t have to answer,” Steve reminds you, but he’s smirking a little bit. “I’ll just update the board.”

He’s referring to the board, in the kitchen, where you kept tallies of who won which game. He had eleven tallies, and you had ten. ...You two might take it a little too seriously.

“No, I…” you lose your air fairly quickly, clamping your lips shut between your teeth before, finally, gritting out. “My… childhood crush was… on you.

He looks surprised, doesn’t say a word. You rush on, trying to explain and make it seem better, “When I was a kid, I kind of went nuts over your exhibit in the Smithsonian. If we had lived in D.C., I probably would have moved in there. I was, like, seven or whatever and I just thought you were really cool and brave...” you feel your skin grow hotter as you talk, so you shut up, looking away with determined embarrassment. “So… yeah.”

“Oh,” he still looks a little stunned. You look to the TV, trying to get your mind off wherever his mind is going. It's silent for too long. Well, too long for your anxiety-riddled thoughts, at least, which could mean only a minute had passed.

“So, them, uh, Patriots, huh…?” you try weakly.

“What about now?” a shiver courses down your spine at the very question. No way you can tell him. Never. Ever. _Holy shit_ that’d be the end of it all. You’d never get to lay on him like this again, and say goodbye to this game that’s enabled you to learn more about Captain America than you ever could have from his museum exhibit.

“No follow-up questions, remember, mister?” you smirk a little, but his face is deadly serious. His blue eyes bore into you, and you’re not sure if breathing is a thing your body can handle now.

“ _Yes_ ,” he rasps, just a bit. “So what about now?”

“...That didn’t count…”

“Can I kiss you?”

That’s it. Heart’s stopped. You’re dead. This is officially heaven. Steve Rogers. Captain America. Asking to kiss you? ...How are you supposed to say no to those beautiful eyes?”

“Please and thank you,” you whisper, surging up to meet him halfway. _He has warm lips._

Your teeth clash, and for a horrible moment, it seems as though there’s no chemistry there. Then, something turns and twists, and it’s _all_ you want to do with your life.

His hands are tight and warm on your waist, one then sliding up to cradle your neck under your hair as he kisses the life out of you. God, his lips are soft, tender, and his hands are a lifeline for your soul as it nearly falls out of your body in shock. You really hadn’t been expecting this much passion from Steve, to be honest. You had him pegged for a tender and sweet kisser.

Well, thank _God_ you were wrong, cuz this man practically clings to you in desire. His breath is hot as he plunders your mouth for more and more. His fingers dig in tight, and you moan at the thought of the bruises that’ll be left behind. It only causes him to hold on harder, mimicking your sounds back to you, hungry mewls of delight.

He sighs, and it’s all you can do to maintain your sanity, because that shivery little expiration is the most amazing sound in the world. You can almost taste your name on the sweet, small sound - the gentle clench in his diaphragm as the air catches between his teeth.

When you separate, just for air, your noses brush and press together. You giggle a bit, overcome with disbelief and a small amount of hysteria.

“So, is that what you meant, by your first question?” he asks after a heavy moment, hand carding through your hair, thumb pressing against your cheek and just under your eye. You nod a bit, sighing with comfort as Steve caresses your face. His thumb lands on your lips, brushing them softly, and you nip at the tip, staring him in the eyes, a smirk crinkling your eyes and cheeks.

“I wanna kiss you all the time,” you murmur happily, kissing his hand, staring up at him with a love-drunk expression. “Everywhere.”

He grins, and your heart flutters rapidly, “I was hoping you’d say that.”


End file.
